you never want to picture either of your parents hurting or sick. for some reason with us wilson kids we always somehow imagined that dad would get sick first. in fact, i have had repeated eerie dreams of dressing in black for days on end because something happened to my dad.
and now that which for some reason we always think will come when you are prepared or strong or sans other problems or when they are 95 played out in my life today. last week as i was riding the bus to work i called to check in on mom and dad. mom relayed to me that she had been having some odd symptoms over the last few weeks. She told me she was having trouble writing as she sat down to write her thank you notes. Her writing was illegible. She told me she went to make dad's eggs and thought the egg was going into a bowl but she cracked it on the counter. She told me she was tired.
selfishly i told myself life was way too shitty right now and we haven't even come up from the tornado that was last year. mom was going to be okay. this was a reaction to medicine or something. mom couldn't be sick. mom is wonderwoman. my strength. dad, bryan, amy... our go to tell us how/what/when where.
and then today i was sitting in a meeting and the call came in. i let myself out of the room and went to my office, shut the door, and heard dad in the weariest of voices said "we have very bad news." heaving and humungous rain tears come out as i try so hard to grasp what he is telling me and make it into a sentence.... tumor... periotal.. neo something... oncology... operable or not... swelling. my mind blank my body shaking, for an hour or so until my jaw is sore. my mom has a brain tumor. this cannot be.